The Lord, My Shepherd
by Dark Glass01
Summary: AU:. After the chaos of The Relay 314 Intervention, order has returned to space, the upstart Humans kept from causing chaos by Turian peacekeepers. Torn by society and the expectations of her adopted "family", a young Shepherd tries to iron out her "weaknesses" by joining the Turian auxiliaries. However, perhaps a bit of softness is what her hard-hearted officer needs?


**Author Notes: A few points before I begin.**

**Thanks to Tuffet37 for writing both Conspiracy and For the Hierarchy, both of which provided inspirations for this story. If you have not read his work, I suggest you do so.**

**This story is in dedication to a certain lady-friend of mine, who has reignited by literary muse, and for whom a certain pairing and dynamic happens to be a bit of a fantasy (On which I take some artistic license for story) .**

**Also, disclaimer; This story is purely fictional and does not reflect speciesist views on the part of the author. Some of my best friends are humans. I also bear no special hatred towards any system of measurement**

**Prologue: To Give them an Inch…**

_Year 2157, N.A.S.A Center, Earth_

For nearly a decade now, the North American Space Agency; at least, that portion which was still under the employ of The United States directly, had seen herself slowly fading away as a distinct entity; her shipyards, her high-tech research equipment, and the best and brightest of her staff all being "transferred" to the new System Alliance bases. More and more of their projects seemed to have been shutting down every month, what they had left basically consisting of glorified parcel services of scientific probes. The lights had gone out in many of her buildings, and for the longest of times, even as space travel was becoming more important than ever, Dr. Wright would walk through those empty halls, sigh, and wonder how much longer he had left here.

However, a month or so ago, everything had exploded, and suddenly he was wishing he could actually leave.

It had just showed up in the news one morning; vids of human ships being blown out of space by massive, alien vessels, announcers and headlines screaming and all the talking heads chattering endlessly about humanity's first contact with an alien species; from what had been seen, sleek, armored beasts who had no intent to approach in peace. Almost overnight, the center had flown into a whirlwind of activity, as orders flooded down from Alliance command for dozens upon dozens of long-range probes… capable of moving through Mass Effect relays and doing investigative work on this strange, new neighbor in the galaxy. Engineers were shipped in from wherever they could be found, bustling past him in the halls, the cacophony of machines whirling in the different labs surrounding him as he worked his way towards one of the manufacturing floors; precision machines placing all the nessicery parts of the next generation of long-range human probes into place. Stiffling a yawn and rubbing his eyes, Wright ascended into one of the computer booths, placing a data-slate of calculations he'd done next to the keyboard, his long, lean fingers beginning to type in the requirements for the probe's propulsion systems.

He had to struggle to keep his eyes open as the endless stream of numbers rolled past him. With the extra workload and the demand to get the new design out **now**, before the aliens could try anything else, he'd been on the clock for nearly 48 hours now, the entire time checking and double-checking all the numbers. If these probes were going to go where they needed to, everything would have to be absolutely perfect… as they'd drilled into his head so many times now. Sealed behind a pain of sound-proof glass, he took his time, carefully entiring everything exactly as he'd written, checked, and quadruple checked, the great silver antenna and plates coming together nicely on the platform below.

"Alright then…" he muttered to himself, as he took a long, heavy breath, slouching back in his chair once the flurry of activity from his fingers was done. All that was left was one final number at the bottom; the distance between one of the afterburners and the main chastice. In a few, very distinct keystrokes, he entered that as well. "And that's 38.97412 inches." Submitting the input with one more click, a heavy wave of relaxation and accomplishment fell over him… finally, he knew, N.A.S.A would prove its worth to the Alliance, and the American identity would not be lost to this sovereignty-stealing , international plot that called itself the System's Alliance. Getting to his feet and leaving the papers behind, he walked out of the room, gliding through the halls with the upmost confidence, his mind locked on the feeling of the cup of coffee he was about to get.

The calculations he left behind remained on that desk untouched for days until, when the satellite was prepared for shipping, they were shredded along with the European specifications, inchs and centimeters side by side

* * *

_Year 2157, Shanxi_

There was almost an eeriness to their surroundings, as the small squad of Turian soldiers kept a tight formation through the surroundings buildings, their boots supplementing the sound of the surrounding wildlife. The alien atmosphere of the planet is almost… oppressive on them, as their leader, General Desolas, took the point, his piercing blue eyes squinting hard as he scanned the horizon, making a disgruntled snorting noise. _We were told it crashed roughly around here… we can't be far now_, he thought, catching the eyes of his men, who seemed a bit more off put by something… staring into the windows of supposedly empty buildings, the shadows dancing in the light.

Then, out of nowhere, he heard it; the distinct bang of a bullet wizzing by his head, barely missing. His eyes shot up to the source of the noise, his squid pointing their rifles up towards it was well, to catch something disappearing behind the walls of one of the taller buildings. Before they could fire, though, another bullet flew, this one punching right through the head plate of one of his men, causing him to grunt loudly in pain as he collapsed to the ground. Bullets seemed to fly by three different directions, their sound hidden by a dull rumbling noise. His ranks ran, trying to find cover, but there was none; bullets flew in from every direction, Desolas himself leaping into one of the buildings himself, only to be forced to watch the slaughter of his men… a dull pain filling his chest at the dishonor of losing the battle…

However, he would not have to live with that dishonor for long. For, a few moments later, the rumbling from the sky turned into a scream, as something smashed into the ground with a huge thud. Then, all there was was a flash of white light, and the scouring sensation as the wave of fire engulfed him, and the entire surrounding settlement.

* * *

_-Extracted from The Galactic Codex: Relay 314 Intervention_

_Though none could say the exact identity of the deployed nuclear devise, examination of the explosion site revealed a nuclear fusion reaction, the melted remains a silicon-based alloy of Alliance development. As a result of this information coming to light, the Turian Hierarchy placed an appeal to the Citadel Council, and in a unanimous agreement The Systems Alliance was charged with a Tier III violation of the Citadel Conventions, the Salarian Union and Asari Republics declaring they would not interfere in what was officially declared a Citadel Council Police Action. _

_By 2158, the Turian 6__th__, 17__th__, and 28__th__ Fleets had been deployed to the Shanxi-Theta Relay, engaging Alliance 2__nd__ Fleet in The Battle of Shanxi , in what has been noted as one of the most complete rout of an enemy in Turian military history. In a few short months, Turian landing parties had secured most of the Alliance's outlying colonies, with the remaining Human fleets organized in the Sol system, to defend their homeworld and core mining colonies. Their final defense occurred at the Charon Relay, where the Alliance fleet, under the command of Alliance Admiral Bruce Haddad attempted to ambush Turian forces as they arrived in the Sol system, and to protect the Alliance's command post at Arterius Station (Then Arcturus Station; the facility wasn't renamed in honor of the fallen Turian General until 2161). This battle raged on for days, as advance Hierarchy forces were defeated piecemeal until the arrival of the Dreadnought __Honorbound__, who along with her escort defeated the Alliance fleet and ended human presence in space. On Day 116 of 2158, the remaining Alliance forces stationed on Arcturus Station agreed to unconditional surrender, with the nations of earth likewise surrendering individually over the course of the next 7 GSD. The Intervention was officially resolved with the Mars Accords._

_[Search: Mars Accords]_

_The Mars accords were an agreement between the Turian Hierarchy and the nation of Earth following the defeat and dissolution of The Systems Alliance in 2158, as a result of The Relay 314 Intervention. Written with the Krogan Rebellion taken into account, these accords were drafted by a joint party of Citadel species, and were made an integral part of the peace agreements between Turian and Human holdings. The terms called for disarmament of all human nations of military-grade weaponry, forced the surrender of outlying colonies, placed strict tonnage limits on FTL-capable starships, and required that all human world and colonies consented to Hierarchy garrisons and advisors for protection and oversight. Though initially met with some political resistance amongst the Asari, who viewed the terms as too harsh, the treaty was applauded by the galactic community at large, including several non-Citadel race, including the Batarian Hegemony and Quarian Migrant Fleet. Some controversy continues on Earth and The Sol Alliance (A disarmed successor to The System's Alliance, consisting of Hierarchy-advised human holdings) over the accords, with the continued controversy providing the fuel for several insurgencies._


End file.
